Don't Let Go
by devane
Summary: Now that Brian and Michael are the best of friends, a single heart-breaking moment may, or may not, cost them their relationship...
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** PG-13 Heavy on the angst

**Pairing:** Brian & Michael (best friends…and more?)  
**Summary:** Now that Brian and Michael are the best of friends, a single heart-breaking moment may, or may not, cost them their relationship...  
**Disclaimer:** I understand that CowLip and Showtime own the rights to these boys, I'm merely "borrowing" them for the time being. This story made for fun, not for profit. No infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: This story is actually completed, but I broke it up into three chapters for posting purposes. I actually finished this one a couple weeks ago (it's posted elsewhere) but am now adding it here.

**Dedication:** For Sonny who is the most amazing support one could ask for in this fandom and for the gals over at **The Dynamic Duo Haven**—you're all the best!

**Chapter One**

_I remember the first time I heard your name. Michael says, 'There is this new boy in school - Brian Kinney.' For weeks, that's all he could talk about. Brian Kinney this, and Brian Kinney that. And then the next thing I knew, you were cutting classes. And then I come home from work one day, and there you were, fourteen and drunk. It was then that I knew you were trouble.—Debbie to Brian, Episode 111_

"Mikey, hey Mikey!" Brian Kinney called out to his best friend, Michael Novotny, as he exited the locker room after gym class. Michael had changed already and was about to exit the gymnasium.

"What is it?" Michael asked, waiting for his friend to catch up to him.

"We don't have anything going on in science class today—no labs, right?" At Michael's nod, he went on. "And there's not going to be like a pop quiz or anything in Spanish, right?"

"Doubtful. Why?"

"Because, I have a plan," Brian told him with a gleam in his hazel eyes.

Michael gave his friend a questioning glance. He wondered what exactly this plan was and why it hinged on what was going on in their final two classes.

"You don't have anything going on in art after lunch, do you? And you don't really need to eat lunch with the guys, do you?"

Well no, Michael didn't _need_ to, but he felt that he should. It was one time he got to spend with the "old gang" as his attention was tuned more and more to Brian Kinney these days. Michael was a very friendly boy and people liked how good-natured he was (though some also took advantage of that), but when Michael had a best friend, that best friend came before anyone or anything except for his family. There had been occasions, lately, where Michael would hang out with Brian rather than the guys after school. This was becoming a source of tension. Michael hated tension.

"I uhh, well," Michael paused, shifting on his feet. "Umm…" Brian waited expectantly so finally Michael blurted, "Well what's your plan?"

"Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Huh?" Michael was now confused.

Brian laughed. "It's an expression, Mikey. It means that—"

Michael cut him off. "I know what it means. But are you talking about school? You want to ditch class?"

Nodding, Brian began to explain. "You and me, let's cut out now, no one will miss us because we're supposed to be in lunch. And then instead of going to lunch, let's go to the Rialto for the 12:30 showing of "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." Good plan, huh Mikey?"

"You want us to skip school to see a movie?" Michael's brown eyes widened in surprise and nervousness. He'd never skipped school before.

"Not just _any_ movie, Mikey. It's Indy. Harrison Ford. Come on, you know you've been dying to see it and it comes out today. It's not our fault it comes out on a Wednesday. Your mom won't let you see movies on a school night so why should you have to wait until the weekend? I don't want to wait, do you?"

Well no, he didn't. He very much wanted to see this movie. But he was a little unsure about this plan. "But what will they say when we don't show up to class?"

Wrapping an arm around Michael's shoulder, Brian assured him that it was no big deal. "So they'll think we're sick or something. We won't get in trouble. Trust me; we won't be the only ones doing this today."

Michael didn't respond, just leaned back against Brian. "You've never skipped, have you?" At Michael's nod, Brian went on to say that he had before and it was nothing. He then tempted him some more with Indiana Jones and Harrison Ford and hanging out in the theater's balcony, just the two of them with a big bucket of popcorn and a large Pepsi and maybe some chocolate and other candy too. He was so nonchalant about it all that Michael caved. "Okay, yeah, let's do it," he said with a smile toward his friend.

Brian was a little surprised that Michael gave in but he was pleased. Why should they follow the rules all the time? What did that ever get anyone? Sometimes Michael was too good for his own good. He needed to let loose at times, and this would be fun.

Releasing his grip on his friend, Brian looked around for any teachers or administrators and when he saw none, he waved Michael to follow his lead out of the school. They walked determinedly out of the building and didn't look back. Once they were far enough away, Michael let out a deep breath. "Wow, we did it."

"Now comes the fun. Come on, we have twenty minutes to get to the theater and get our grub, let's go!" They half-ran, half-walked, Brian keeping Michael's asthma in mind so he didn't go too fast and they made it with time to spare. After purchasing their food and soda, they ran up to the balcony and found "their" spot.

"Look at this, Mikey, we have the best view," pointed Brian as they sat down and got situated.

Brian was right about that. "I can't believe we're doing this, that we're here," Michael confessed.

Brian merely smiled at him and handed him his Milk Duds as he opened his own package of Skittles. Looking around the theater, Brian said, "We came at the perfect time. It's not crowded at all. If we waited until the weekend, it would have been mad and we wouldn't have gotten our spot. This is much better."

Michael couldn't disagree with that, even if he felt a twinge of guilt for skipping out on school and his friends. Michael wasn't given much time to reflect on anything because soon the lights dimmed and the trailers came on before the movie began.

"Damn, this is so good," whispered Brian to Michael, forty-five minutes into the movie.

"I know, this is the best," agreed Michael who haphazardly stuck his hand in the bucket to extract some popcorn at the same time as Brian. Both boys felt a jolt of electricity rush through them when their sticky hands met. Neither pulled back right away either. They looked into the bucket at their hands and swallowed, feeling like this was right.

Michael swore he heard his heart pound in his chest when Brian pulled his own hand out of the bucket and wiped it on his jeans before eyeing Michael and leaning in towards him. Ho-ly fuck is he going to? Michael couldn't even finish his own question because there was no way Brian Kinney was going to kiss him, was there?

Brian grew nervous as well as he looked over at Michael. Michael who was as engrossed in the movie as he was, a perpetual grin plastered across his face, his big brown eyes wide with happiness. He looked utterly adorable in his faded blue jeans and U2 War Tour tee. He'd ribbed Michael earlier that day when he first saw that shirt, asking him which was his favorite member. Of course it was Bono. For both of them. Except that they both hated the mullet the singer had been sporting recently.

When their hands met in the popcorn bucket, Brian had felt an electric tingle up his spine. This wasn't the first time he'd felt this way towards Michael and he doubted it would be the last. There was just something that attracted him to the boy, he couldn't quite explain it. On more than one occasion, he had wanted to kiss him, but he never went through with it, not wanting to rock the boat. It was too soon and could change things and not in a good way. For now, Brian had to be content with their best friend status. He had to. Besides, he wasn't even sure if Michael was interested yet taking another look at the flushed face, the dilated pupils, he suspected there was something there. So he leaned further towards him where their faces were nearly meeting and it would be so easy to place his lips upon Michael's to taste if they were as soft as they looked, but at the last minute he chickened out and instead brushed a hand across Mikey's face, wiping off some chocolate that had smudged on there.

Michael looked at him with something akin to disappointment and then embarrassment at having been caught with chocolate on his face. He grabbed a napkin and began wiping his face clean and his hands which were all buttery and salty from the popcorn. The spell and moment broken, both boys turned their attention back to the movie, watching in silence.

"So, how'd you like it, Mikey?" asked his friend as they chucked their trash in a garbage bin on the way out of the theater.

"It was really cool. It was darker than "Raiders of the Lost Ark" but it worked."

Nodding, Brian pushed the door open and waited for Michael to join him outside. It was a great day out, perfect for a smoke so he took his cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit up, asking his friend if he wanted one.

"Nah, not with my asthma," he explained and Brian felt stupid for offering.

"At least it beat being stuck inside in classes the rest of the day," commented Brian as they walked along outside, Brian following Michael because he didn't know what the plans were for the rest of the afternoon.

"Yup. Wanna go to Buzzy's?" he asked and at Brian's nod, they went there to spend a few hours before returning to their respective homes. Brian wondered if he'd done something to upset Mikey because the teen seemed a little "off" to him. Michael, meanwhile felt like a fool for even considering that Brian might have wanted to kiss him in the darkened theater. He should have known better and after what happened with Charlie, he didn't want to lose another best friend due to stupid things like kisses. Yet he couldn't help but feel disappointed because he really, really wanted to kiss Brian Kinney.

When he arrived home, Michael wanted to run up into his room and kick back but he found his mother waiting for him in the living room. That's weird, he was certain she wouldn't be home for a few more hours. "Hi Ma," he greeted.

"How was school?" she questioned without greeting her only child.

"It was fine," he replied with a shrug.

"Oh really? Hard for it to be fine when you skipped three classes. Michael Charles Novotny!"

Oh shit! She found out. "How?" he asked.

"The school called me at the Diner and asked if I had picked you up for an appointment or if you were sick because you didn't show up to art, science, or Spanish."

Fuck! Debbie had her hands on her hips and was shaking her red wig. "Michael, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I uhh, I uhh, I'm sorry?" he offered, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah well you should be sorry. Since when do you skip school? You never have. You've always been such a good boy. It's that Kinney kid's influence isn't it?" she assumed and one look into her son's guilty face, she knew she was right.

"How did he convince you to skip school?"

Michael looked up into his mother with fearful eyes. "He didn't. It's not his fault, Ma. It's mine. I wanted to."

She wasn't buying it. "Sure you did. Because you've always wanted to skip, haven't you?"

Well actually, there had been times when Michael wanted to. When he was feeling bored or being bullied or even nervous about an exam, there were times when he wanted to flee school. He'd just never gone through with it before.

"Ma, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"You are grounded, Michael. For two weeks, you are to come straight home provided that I'm here and if I'm at work then you are to come directly to the diner. No Buzzy's. And Brian is not allowed to come here after school."

"Ma!" moaned Michael, feeling a dagger to his heart at the thought of not spending all of that time with Brian.

"I don't want to hear it. I hope it was worth it. What did you do?"

"Nothing. We just went to see the new Indiana Jones movie. That's all, honest."

Debbie believed him but she couldn't allow him to get off so easy. "I was going to take you boys this weekend, you couldn't have waited? I'm doing the best I can here, kiddo. Without any help from your…from anyone. I need you to act responsibly."

Michael felt awful for being such a disappointment to his mother. He knew how hard she worked to support the two of them, especially him and here he went, giving her grief by having the school call her to tell her he'd skipped out. Fucking hell!

The next day, Brian noticed Michael keeping to himself in English class and then in study hall (they had study hall on the days they didn't have gym). Brian wondered what was bothering his friend, so he tried to approach him but Michael ran off to join his friends at lunch. Sighing, he got in line for some crap cafeteria food and then sat with Matt Stein and his jock friends. Matt seemed to like Brian even though he got on his case for hanging out with "that Novotny kid."

When school got out, Brian decided to corner Michael at his locker. He had no success getting him to talk to him in their last two classes of the day and he'd had enough avoidance. He was going to get Michael to talk to him.

Michael absently rifled through his locker and stuffed what he needed for homework in his backpack. He was about to slam the door shut when someone else did it for him. Blinking rapidly, he looked over to his left and saw Brian standing there, looking annoyed. Sighing, he asked Brian what he was doing.

"I don't know, Mikey. Why don't you tell me what you're doing? Tell me why you're avoiding me," the younger teen wanted to know.

Swallowing, Michael looked over at Brian who looked eager to know why he was being avoided. Hurt shone in his hazel eyes and Michael hated being the one to make him feel that way.

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Could have fooled me. You haven't talked to me _at all_ today, unless you had to in class."

Michael couldn't deny that. He fidgeted in his spot, looking around to see if many of their peers were hanging around (they weren't).

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he said sincerely.

Leaning against the locker, Brian sighed. "Then why did you? Did I do something? You've been acting "off" since yesterday."

So Brian _had_ noticed that he'd been acting weird. And it was ever since that not-so-near kiss. How was Michael going to explain that one?

"You didn't do anything, Brian. Promise."

O-kay. Brian didn't know if he believed that, but for the moment he was going to have to accept his friend's response. "So we're cool?"

"We're cool," Michael agreed, giving him a small smile. God Brian loved that smile.

"So, we gonna hang out tonight?"

Shaking his head, Michael said they couldn't. "I'm grounded. For two weeks."

"Two weeks? For what?" Brian couldn't think of anything that Michael would have done to merit grounding, especially for two weeks!

"For skipping school yesterday. Ma found out."

Frowning, Brian cursed under his breath. "Shit. I'm sorry, Mikey."

Shrugging, Michael told him that it wasn't his fault, he did want to skip and see the movie and well, now he'd have to deal with the consequences. "So for two weeks?"

"Yeah. I have to go straight home if Ma's home and the diner if she's at work. Can't even go to Buzzy's."

Damn, that wasn't fair, thought Brian.

"And well, you can't come over. Sorry." And Michael was. How were they going to get through two weeks without hanging out all the time? At least they still had school.

"That fucking sucks. I know she's your mom and all but—"

When Michael gave him a warning look not to go there, Brian zipped his lips and instead told Michael that he'd see him tomorrow and he expected Michael to talk to him. Giving a slight chuckle, Michael promised he would.

"I'd better get my ass to the diner."

And what a fine ass—shit, don't go there, Brian told himself.

"See ya tomorrow, Mikey."

"See ya!" Michael called out, waving to his friend as he exited the building.

Slumping against the locker, Brian shut his eyes, trying to ignore the ache that was building the moment that Mikey had told him they couldn't hang out for two weeks. Now this meant he had to endure the shit at home, all the time. Or hang out with the jocks. Neither choice was appealing.

As expected, the two weeks crawled slowly by for both boys. The only comfort they took was in the fact that Debbie couldn't do anything about them sharing four classes and lunch. While not the same as also hanging out most afternoons and weekends, at least it was something.

"Mikey, your two weeks are up!" declared Brian happily as the two walked out of the school building together.

"I know! I am so glad, now I don't have to be stuck at the stupid diner all the time and I can go to Buzzy's and hang out with friends."

Scuffing his sneakers against the sidewalk, Brian asked him if he had any plans for Friday night, which was tomorrow. Michael didn't.

"Good. Do you think she'll let you go bowling with me?"

"Hmm, I dunno. I'll have to ask."

"Okay. But tell her that we'll be chaperoned. Pop is going to be there. He and his buddies are going to bowl and drink—well don't tell her about the drinking part—and he said that I could come and bring a friend."

This was something quite unusual for Jack Kinney, so Brian figured he'd better take advantage of his father's "generous" nature and invite Mikey along. Michael was surprised to hear that Mr. Kinney was inviting Brian and a friend to go bowling together. He knew that they didn't do many "father and son" things together. Michael wanted to go because he wanted to hang out with Brian but he'd finally met Jack Kinney (and Joan and Claire) a month ago and well, he was a very intimidating man. He'd made Michael feel on edge the entire time and the way Jack acted towards Brian just wasn't right. Still, he felt he owed his friend this. So he promised Brian that he would talk to Debbie and let him know.

Debbie knew how miserable her son had been since she'd grounded him two weeks ago. Miserable because he couldn't do anything or see anyone, Brian Kinney in particular. Still, he followed her rules and was well-behaved during that time, so when it was up, Debbie agreed to Michael's request to go bowling the next night with Brian and his father. She'd not met Mr. Kinney herself but she trusted that he would keep an eye on the boys so they wouldn't get in trouble.

Michael went to Brian's house the next afternoon so they could get a ride with Mr. Kinney. Jack didn't say much to them on the ride to the bowling alley, just gave them steely-eyed glances every now and then. He hadn't even greeted Michael and only grunted in response to things that his son had said. Michael was feeling very uncomfortable and Brian was feeling very worried that his father would do something to embarrass himself or Brian. The boys ran inside to get their shoes when one of Jack's buddies came over to talk to him. It was a relief that he would be occupied with others and hopefully leave them alone.

They grabbed a spot by the lane that they would use, Jack and his friends using one two lanes over. Sitting on the bench, they took their sneaks off and slid on the ugly bowling shoes. They picked their bowling balls next—a green 8 pound one for Michael and a green 10 pound one for Brian—and then waited for Brian's dad to settle in with his friends (and beer) before they started playing.

Four frames in and both boys were faring poorly. Gutter ball after gutter ball, they were having no luck. Michael had never really been good at bowling and it appeared that his best friend was equally as bad. Brian was already ready for a break so he called Michael to follow him and get some pizza as he had some money on him. Slowly chewing his hot slice of pepperoni pizza and downing it with some Coke, Brian looked around at the room for his father. Naturally, he found Jack at the bar. The boys finished their pizza and went back to the game, utterly failing.

Meanwhile, Jack's friends were commenting on the fact that his son and his son's friend were "wusses" who couldn't bowl if their lives depended on it. They ribbed Jack mercilessly with each frame and each gutter ball rolled. Jack responded by drinking more and more and getting more and more perturbed.

The seventh frame was next and the grand total was 9—between the two of them! First up was Michael. Brian watched as Michael stepped up to the line, holding the ball closely to his chest, his eyes in major concentration. Of course, it was to no avail because as soon as he let go and released the ball, it rolled slowly into the gutter. Disappointment etched on his face, Michael slowly walked over to where Brian was sitting and stuffed his hands in the back of his black Levi's.

"I suck at this. Sorry, Bri."

"Hey, I'm no better than you, Mikey. So we suck at bowling, who cares?" Brian wished he felt as nonchalant as he sounded. Jack Kinney and his friends cared, that's who.

Brian had a similar stance to Michael's but he held the ball slightly different and he bit his lower lip as he released the ball, grimacing as he saw it aim for the gutter but then…no, what was that? The ball was rolling down the lane! He was going to knock over some pins. One, two three, five…eight…ten! He got a strike!

Michael immediately jumped up and ran to his friend who gave an incredulous look. "Yeah, you got a strike!" he shouted simultaneously as Brian who yelled "I got a strike!"

Thrilled, Michael wrapped his arms around Brian in an embrace and the twosome jumped up and down, repeating the "you got a strike/I got a strike" mantra.

"You did it, Brian. I'm so proud of you," gushed Michael as he hugged his friend.

Giving him a huge smile, Brian pulled Michael closer to him and then surprised them both by leaning down and giving him a big kiss on the lips. Michael closed his eyes and moaned softly, pleased at the sensation of Brian's lips on his and Brian for his part kept his eyes open so he could witness Michael's reactions. God, Mikey's lips were as soft as he'd imagined! He wanted to keep kissing his friend, to express his feelings but he was interrupted by a disapproving grunt.

"What are you, a couple of fucking fairies?" Jack Kinney, who had returned from the bar with another beer, sneered, flicking his wrist like a stereotypical homosexual might.

Immediately, Brian removed his lips from Michael's and he could feel his friend's heart pounding through his yellow and white tee. "My Sonny boy and his little friend are a bunch of fucking fairies," sang Jack.

Not having time to think, Brian merely reacted and he yelled, "Get off of me, Michael!" and with a forceful shove, pushed Michael so hard that he could have rolled down the lane. Michael was sprawled on the tile, obviously in pain and he gave a helpless look at Brian who shook his head and ran. Ran away from Michael, away from his father's menacing glare, away from the taunts of his father's friends, away from the bowling alley.

He ran and he ran and he ran some more. No destination in mind, he just had to get away. Finally reaching a tree in a park, he leaned against it to catch his breath. The enormity of the situation, of what he'd done, caught up to him. _Oh God, Mikey, I'm so sorry_, he whispered to himself, hugging the willow.

Humiliated and in pain, Michael remained sprawled on the floor, blinking back tears at what had just happened, while listening to Kinney and company snickering and flat-out mocking him. "The fucking fairy fell on the fucking floor."

"Your son pushed him, Jack," one of the guys he was with pointed out.

"That's true. Maybe he's less of a pussy than I thought. Maybe Sonny boy's not the fairy, maybe it's him," he said, pointing his beer bottle in Michael's direction.

Cowering, Michael felt like sobbing. How could he do that? How could he kiss me like that and then push me away, push me so hard I fell and he just ran away?

Releasing a deep breath, Michael told himself he needed to get a handle on himself, so he shakily stood up, nearly falling over again and then he walked out, ignoring Jack Kinney.

He hurt so badly. His shoulder was sore, he wondered if it was dislocated from the fall. His palms were scraped from bracing the fall and he thought his knees were as well. He didn't know what to do. He could call his mother but he didn't even have a dime on him to use in the phone booth to call her. The only option he had was to walk home, which he did, ever-so-slowly. As he walked, the tears fell freely.

**~&~&~... TBC...~&~&~**

Bottom of Form


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It took Michael a full half an hour to reach his house and when he did, he thought about how awful he must look. He went to the back yard and turned on the hose, cupping some water in his hands he splashed it on his face. Hopefully it helped stave off some of his redness/puffiness that he assumed was there from the crying and at the least, it took care of the latent tears.

Shakily he fished for his key in his back pocket and then once found them, he opened the door.

"You're home early," commented Debbie who walked out of the kitchen where she had been sitting down, drinking coffee, and entered the living room.

Michael was quiet and when Debbie asked him another question, he didn't respond so she grabbed him by a shoulder and he let out a hiss of pain.

"Michael?" her voice was softer. She turned him around and gasped when she saw his face which was all red and blotchy from crying and was that a bruise on his face?!

"What happened?"

His voice barely audible, Michael told her that he tripped and fell. That wasn't wholly inaccurate. He did fall, but he didn't trip, he was pushed.

"What hurts?" she asked with concern.

Sniffling, Michael confessed that his shoulder was throbbing, his face was sore, his palms were scraped, and he thought he scraped a knee too.

"Oh my poor baby!" she cried, holding him tight to her.

"Sis, you're going to suffocate him," piped up another voice from the kitchen.

"Uncle Vic?" he questioned and his mother nodded.

"Hey kiddo," his uncle said gently, coming to stand next to him, he rumpled Michael's raven locks.

Debbie frowned when she saw how much pain her only child was in. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Why didn't Brian's father call?"

At Brian's name, Michael flinched in her hold. Vic picked up on it and he placed a hand on his sister's back. "Let Michael go. He looks like he could use some rest."

"Maybe we should take him to the doctor," Debbie said nervously. "What if he broke his shoulder?"

"It's not broken, Ma."

"Well it could be dislocated. You should get an x-ray."

Not wanting to have to deal with that—or her—Michael turned pleading eyes towards his uncle.

"Sis, leave him be. If it gets so bad that he needs a doctor, we'll take him. Now let him go up to his room and get some rest, okay?" He gave her a stern look to show that he meant business. Debbie caved; there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for her baby brother, even though it was going against her maternal instinct to have her son checked out.

"You heard your uncle, get some sleep. If you need anything—"

Michael cut her off. "I know, Ma. Thanks." Turning to his uncle, he thanked him. "It's good to see you, Uncle Vic."

"You too, Son," Vic replied affectionately, giving his nephew a kiss on his cheek.

He went upstairs to his bedroom, ignoring the look of worry that he knew was on his mother's face and gingerly sat on his bed, the tears returning.

_Why Brian, why?_ he cried.

Brian sat beneath the weeping willow tree for what felt like hours, though in reality it wasn't as long. He didn't know what to do or where to turn. Because he knew that if he went home, his father would be there, drunk as a skunk (as usual) and would have his ass on a silver platter for what he caught his son doing. Or worse yet, he would tell Joanie and she would start flipping out and tell him he was going to burn in hell or she'd drag him to church where she would have the gay exorcised out of him. Angry words from his father and a beating or angry words and tears and histrionics from his mother—which was worse? He wasn't quite sure. Not to mention the mocking he'd endure from his older sister who would be horrified by her baby brother. Fuck.

He had no one to turn to. The only person he had in his life that he could count on was Michael and he blew that to hell. Why did he hurt the one person he cared about? Brian kept flashing to Mikey's glee upon Brian getting the strike, them jumping up and down together, the great hug, and then that kiss that he planted right on Mikey's lips. It felt so good to do what he'd been wanting to do for some time now, to show Michael what he felt but it lasted mere seconds before reality hit and his father's obnoxious voice rang in his ears about them being "fucking fairies." And then he yelled at Mikey to get off of him, as if it was Michael who had forced himself on Brian and not the other way around, and to top it off he shoved Michael, pushed him so hard that he fell onto the hard floor. That look of utter shock and hurt in Michael's face would not leave Brian's head. He looked so small, so helpless and in so much pain—physical and emotional—and it was all caused by him. Brian did that to his best friend. The first and last best friend he'd ever have.

Michael would never forgive him for that. Brian was certain. Especially after what happened with Charlie who belittled the kiss they shared, to have another best friend reject him after a kiss…Michael would surely hate him. He hated himself. What would he do, sharing five periods with Michael at school? Switch classes? They wouldn't do that at this point in the semester. Brian supposed he would have to suck it up and deal with it.

All he really wanted to do right now was run to the Novotny house and up to Michael's room to apologize to him, beg for forgiveness. But he couldn't. Too much had gone down.

Finally pulling himself together, Brian got up and trudged home. When he got there, he noticed that his mom's car wasn't there, which could be a good or bad thing, depending on if she was told what happened at the bowling alley. He walked past the living room when he noticed Jack sitting on his recliner, beer in one hand, bowl of popcorn in another. Typical Jack Kinney.

"Hey, Sonny boy," Jack greeted when he noticed his son enter.

Shit. So much for a quick exit up to his room. "Hey Pop," he said casually.

"Where have you been?"

"Here and there." No further explanation, hopefully none was required.

"You missed your little faggot friend," he slurred, "lying on the floor of the bowling alley. He almost fell over when he stood up. It was quite the sight. The wuss was even crying! How the hell did you two become friends? Never mind, I don't want to know. But that was a smart move, pushing him like that. Maybe you're less of a wimp than I thought, Sonny boy."

Brian grimaced as he imagined what it must have been like once he fled the scene. Michael sprawled on the ground, Jack and his buddies drinking and mocking Michael, calling him names, while Michael just cried from the pain and humiliation and hurt. How could he have done that to Mikey?

Thankfully Jack didn't have more to say and he didn't harass Brian for a change, so Brian ran into his room, slammed the door shut, slid on the floor and hugged his knees to his chest, wondering how he could possibly apologize to Michael.

Michael cried himself to sleep. When he awoke, he was still in quite a bit of pain, so he got out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to find some Aspirin to take with some water. When he got there, he saw his uncle coming out of the bathroom.

"Hi Mikey," he said, looking over his nephew who still looked to be in pain. "How are you feeling?"

"Still pretty sore and banged up," he admitted as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water as his uncle handed him the bottle of Tylenol.

"Poor thing. Maybe Debbie's right and you should get checked out by a doctor."

Shaking his head, Michael replied that it was unnecessary. "I just want to stay home and take it easy."

"Understandable. No plans with friends?"

"I was going to, but I'll just have to tell them I'm not up to it."

"Okay so if anyone calls I'll tell them that."

"Don't tell them what happened. It's so embarrassing," he said quietly as he took two tablets of Tylenol out of the bottle and downed it with the water.

"You fell. Falls happen. The Grassi side can be klutzes," Vic added in hopes of eliciting a grin from his nephew. When Michael failed to respond, Vic said that he would tell whoever asked that Michael wasn't feeling well.

"Thanks, Uncle Vic, I appreciate it."

"It's a shame what happened. I was hoping that I'd get to meet your Brian sometime this weekend."

Michael immediately tensed up at Brian's name, something that his uncle caught. Something was not right, Vic thought to himself. There's more to the story. "Michael? Anything you want to talk to your old uncle about?"

"You're not old, Uncle Vic," Michael told him, giving him a kiss on his forehead. "And thank you, but I'll be okay. I want to go back to bed; I had trouble sleeping last night and I'm wiped out."

Nodding, Vic said, "I don't blame you. Get some rest kiddo and I'll whip up your favorites for breakfast, no matter what time you come down."

At last, Michael gave him a small smile, thanked him, and went back to bed.

Vic was watching television in the living room when the doorbell rang a few hours later. Michael hadn't come down at that point, and Vic was growing slightly concerned. When he opened the door, he saw a teenage boy standing on the stoop, looking quite nervous. This boy was unfamiliar to him, so he correctly guessed that it must be the new best friend, Brian Kinney.

"Can I help you?" Vic asked kindly as the boy shifted his weight from one foot to another.

Brian didn't recognize the man at first, he'd never seen a man at the Novotny house but then he remembered the picture of Debbie and her brother, Michael's uncle Vic. "Uhh, I'm here to see Mikey."

Vic gave a small smile at the nickname as it was the same one he used for his nephew. "Ahh, you must be Brian?"

Hazel eyes widening in surprise, he nodded and said, "Yeah, how'd you know?"

Vic stepped out of the house and onto the porch to talk to Brian. "I'm Michael's uncle, Vic Grassi. He's talked a lot about you, his new best friend. And he's written about you. Brian Kinney this and Brian Kinney that, as my Sis likes to say."

Brian felt that he was blushing; he hoped he didn't look like a fool in front of Mikey's uncle. "Uh, yeah, I'm Brian. So, can I uh, can I come in and see Mikey?"

Shaking his head, Vic said, "I'm sorry, Son, but Michael's not feeling well."

He noticed that Brian's face immediately fell. "Oh, oh. That sucks."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll tell him you came by though."

"Is he sick? Or is he still hurting from…" Brian's voice trailed off.

"From the fall at the bowling alley?" At Brian's nod, Vic went on. "Yeah, he got pretty banged up. But you would know about that, you were there, you saw him fall."

Gulping, Brian slowly nodded and Vic went on. "What did happen, exactly? Michael wouldn't tell his mother or I—which is not like him—he just said that he fell, it was embarrassing, and he's in a lot of pain."

"I uh, he uh, I mean…." Brian didn't know what to say. How could he admit the part he played?

Vic perceptively viewed this teenager who looked guilty and scared. Yes, Vic believed that Michael's "story" was just that. Something happened at that bowling alley, between those two boys.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me."

"I don't?" Brian was surprised that this man wasn't going to press for the truth.

"No. All that matters now is that Mikey heals," he said with double-meaning.

"You call him Mikey too?" Brian asked with a smile. He liked this man; Michael's uncle.

"Always have. Probably always will."

"Would you uh, would you tell Mikey that I'm sorry?"

"I don't know what happened between you two yesterday, I do know that _something_ did. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"You have no idea," Brian whispered, lowering his gaze to the floor.

Vic frowned. He didn't know why, but he felt a sort of kinship to this boy. Perhaps it was because how much he obviously cared about his nephew; it was etched all over his face and visible in his body language. He hoped that whatever damage occurred yesterday wasn't irreparable to the teens' friendship.

"Brian. I'll be sure to tell him that you stopped by to see him and that you're sorry. You take care of yourself."

Nodding, Brian gave a small smile to the older man who smiled back and waved at him as he left the house. Although it wasn't talking to Mikey, he felt a bit better about things. He also was jealous of Michael for having this guy as his uncle. Most adults either talked down to him or treated him like he was a brat or worse but Vic Grassi treated him like an adult.

As it was approaching noon and Michael still hadn't come down, Vic decided to take matters into his own hands, so he went upstairs with a tray full of Michael's favorite eats. He knocked lightly on the door and then entered it to find Michael lying on his bed, staring at a photo on his bulletin board. It was one of him and Brian, laughing.

"I brought you food and you're going to eat."

"I'm not hungry, Uncle Vic."

"Eat it," the voice was stern but it was caring. Sighing, Michael looked up and over at his uncle and then grabbed the tray from him and sat it on his bed where he began to eat.

"You can sit down," he said mid-chew, pointing to the chair at his desk. Vic did as offered.

"How are you feeling?"

Swallowing a piece of French toast, Michael said, "I'm okay. Still sore, but I'll live."

Vic grinned. "Of course you will. You're part Grassi and we're made of strong Italian stock."

Michael ate some of the scrambled eggs that his uncle had made for him and washed it down with OJ. "Thanks for the food, Uncle Vic. It's good, as always. Don't tell Ma but you're my favorite cook in the family. You should be a chef."

"Psshaw, I like cooking for you. I'm happy with my life as it is right now." Michael nodded and continued to eat.

"You had a visitor earlier."

"Oh?" Michael asked nonchalantly, though he was curious as to who would show up, he had an idea.

Nodding, Vic took the picture off the bulletin board and held it out. "It was him," he said, pointing to Brian.

"Brian," Michael whispered. "What did he want?" He couldn't help himself, he did want to know.

"To see you. Beyond that, I'm not in the loop."

"What did you tell him?" Michael asked, while eating a strawberry.

"That you weren't feeling well."

Michael was relieved.

"He also said to tell you that he's sorry."

Rolling his eyes, Michael muttered under his breath.

"He didn't tell me what he was sorry for, just that he was. He seemed sincere."

"Yeah, right," Michael scoffed, focusing his attention back to the remainder of his food.

Fingering the picture, Vic thought back to the look in Brian's eyes, the sound of his voice when he talked about his Mikey. "He sure seemed it to me. Michael, what happened between you two?"

"Nothing," denied Michael, hoping to evade further questioning. Unfortunately, his uncle wasn't having it.

"I'm neither stupid nor was I born yesterday, Son. The way that boy looked. The way you look whenever his name is said. You didn't fall, something happened to you. And Brian was involved. Did he hit you, Michael? Because if he did, you can tell me. And if he shows up again, I'll slam the door in his face."

Uh-oh, Vic meant business. "He didn't hit me," he quietly spoke. "He shoved me, pushed me so hard I practically rolled down the lane."

Vic's eyes grew wide with surprise and worry. "Mikey, I had no idea."

"How could he do that to me? I thought we were best friends."

"Did you get into a fight?" Vic hoped there was some explanation for Brian's behavior.

Shaking his head, Michael put down his fork and turned to face his uncle. "No. That's the crazy thing. I mean, he kissed me and then he flipped out!" Michael's voice was raised and his heart pounding.

"He kissed you?" Vic asked in further surprise.

Michael nodded his head. "Yes, he kissed me. And then he yelled at me to get off of him and then he pushed me. And he left, Uncle Vic. He ran away and left me there, lying on the floor."

"Oh Mikey…" Vic didn't know what to say. He felt like a piece was missing to this story, but it certainly painted Brian in a bad light.

"What's wrong with me, Uncle Vic?" asked Michael with tears in his puppy dog brown eyes.

"What?" Vic cried, anguished that his nephew, his "son" somehow though that something was wrong with me.

"Charlie kissed me and then a few months later, says it meant nothing, that he was just experimenting, that he took pity on his nerdy friend and a whole bunch of other nasty things. Brian kissed me, he _finally_ kissed me, and he shoves me away. The common denominator in this is me. Am I so awful? So unlovable?" he asked sorrowfully.

"Oh Michael, no," Vic was up and at Michael's side in less than a second. He rubbed Michael's back and held this child to him as Michael wept on his chest. He whispered soothing words in his ears, to try to get him to calm down.

"You, Michael Charles Novotny, are very lovable. You just need to find the right guy to love."

"I thought I had, Uncle Vic. Brian was... I thought he was different. But he wasn't. Why did I have to be gay? None of the girls that I kissed ever treated me like this."

"Michael, it has nothing to do with being gay and I tell you that as a gay man. It has to do with teenage boys being, well, being teenage boys. Don't let them get to you. I know it hurts, Son, and I ache for you but you are worth so much more than you think you are and it doesn't matter what the Charlie Dodds or Brian Kinneys of this world say or do otherwise. Okay?"

Michael didn't respond to his uncle's words, he just clung tighter to his uncle.

In English class on Monday, Michael purposefully ignored Brian. He wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of _looking_ at him. Brian knew he deserved such an attitude, but it still stung. Their next class together was gym, but Michael sat it out with a note from his mom. Lunch wasn't something they typically did together—Michael usually preferred to sit with his other friends and catch up with them while Brian did his thing—and today was no different. During science and Spanish classes, Michael hadn't peeped one word to him. Fortunately in science class they had no labs so it was okay to ignore one another. Although that wasn't Brian's preference. He ached to talk to Michael, to apologize and do whatever it took to make things right between them.

All day long Brian looked longingly after Michael. Michael looked okay for the most part, though he would wince every now and again and his right cheek was bruised. Brian had no idea how much physical damage had been done to Michael, but the emotional was more evident by the way Michael backed away from him.

For his part, it _was_ hard for Michael not to talk to Brian, not to act like they were best friends anymore. But all he had to do was flash back to the way Brian was after the kiss, the words he said, the actions he took, and it was easier to ignore him. They'd managed to make it all day in classes without speaking so it was possible, though obviously he knew they'd eventually have to speak, at least for purposes of working together, like when they had labs in science. Still, Michael made it through the first day, of which he was grateful. He hoped that Brian didn't try to follow him home today; that was not something he wanted to deal with.

"Mikey?" a voice asked softly at his locker at the end of the day.

No response.

"Mikey, can we uh, can we talk?"

Shaking his head, Michael didn't say another word; he just gathered what he needed for homework and stuffed it in his book bag. Brian didn't move. He stood at the locker next to Mikey's, hoping he'd get him to speak to him.

"Hey Michael, you ready?" asked Eric, one of Michael's other friends.

Pointedly not looking at Brian, Michael nodded. "Yup. Let's go." He slammed his locker shut and departed the building with his friend.

Brian was crushed. Michael completely ignored him and then went off with Eric. Sighing, he punched the locker before exiting the building.

**~&~&~... TBC...~&~&~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Later that evening, Michael was in his bedroom trying to do his homework, but he was having trouble concentrating. He'd had a good afternoon hanging with the guys, but something felt off. If he was being honest with himself, it was because even though he was hurting about the situation, he missed Brian. And he wanted nothing more than to not miss him or think about him.

Frustrated, he slammed his book shut and closed his eyes, as he yelled to no one, "Fuck you, Brian Kinney!"

A few minutes later he heard a noise at his window that sounded like something being pelted against it and he knew it wasn't hailing so it couldn't be that. Going to his window, he looked down and he saw the object of his ire, Brian Kinney, standing below his window, chucking pebbles at the window.

Great, just what I don't need, he muttered to himself.

Heaving open the window, he stuck his head out and yelled, "What are you doing here, Brian?"

"I need to talk to you," Brian said softly.

"Why are you throwing stones at my window instead of ringing the doorbell like any normal person would do?"

Snorting, Brian told him, "I'm not a normal person, Mikey."

Don't I know it, Michael thought to himself. Shaking his head, he shut his window and walked downstairs, grateful that his mother wasn't around for this but wishing his uncle hadn't returned to New York City so he could help him deal with Brian. Instead, he had to do it on his own. Hopefully Brian would get it through his thick skull that Michael wanted nothing more to do with him.

Yanking the door open, he bounded down the steps and met Brian where he was standing in the grass, looking up at Michael's window. "What are you doing there?"

Shivering, Brian said, "Mikey, don't do that to a person. I thought you were upstairs, ignoring me."

"Yeah, well I figured I can ignore you out here."

"Touché. Is your mom around?"

"No. But the neighbors are and they don't need to hear the yelling."

"Look, I won't take too much of your time," began Brian but Michael cut him off.

"Don't take up _any_ of my time. I have nothing to say to you, Brian Kinney." His voice was determined.

"Yeah, well I have something to say to you, Michael Novotny," retorted the younger teen, just as determinedly.

Crossing his arms against his chest, Michael shook his head. "I don't care."

"Yeah, well I do," Brian informed him, mimicking Michael's actions.

Michael sighed. Was it going to be like this all night? He had other things to do, like finishing his homework.

"I promise it won't take too long. I just, I need to talk. You don't have to say a thing and if you still hate me when I'm done, well then at least I tried," he reasoned and Michael softened his stance a bit.

"Fine. But come in, I don't want to stand around out here." He walked back into the house and went into the kitchen where he pulled out a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid, found a glass and poured himself some. He didn't offer any to Brian; he just sat down at the table with the glass in his hand.

"Go on then," he said as Brian stood there uneasily.

Looking at Michael's hardened face, Brian swallowed before speaking. "I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm so sorry for what happened last Friday."

"What, exactly are you sorry about? Sorry that I was such an embarrassment to you that you had to yell at me and shove me?"

Shaking his head, Brian's tone was soft. "No. You weren't an embarrassment to me. I was the embarrassment."

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked before taking a sip of Kool-Aid, uncertain where this was headed.

"I embarrassed myself. And you. I caused a scene."

"You kissed me. And then you yelled at me and pushed me away and ran away." He took some gulps of his drink before setting the glass down on the table.

"I know what I did, Mikey. And I'm sorry. I mean it. I don't know how I can convince you, but it's the truth."

Putting his head between his hands, Michael just said, "Why did you do that, Brian? Why?"

He sounded so hurt and vulnerable; Brian didn't know what to do. He wanted to grab Michael in an embrace, but he couldn't do that. Michael wouldn't allow it, for one…

"Because I'm an asshole," was Brian's response.

"Great. Duly noted."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brian went on. "I am an asshole, Mikey. You just haven't seen it all that much. I haven't shown it to you."

"So last Friday was you showing me how much of an asshole you are? That's bullshit."

"Mikey—"

"No. _You_ kissed _me_ Brian. It's not like it was the other way around. If I was so repellant, then why did you kiss me in the first damn place?"

Frustrated, Brian blurted out, "Because I fucking _wanted_ to, Mikey! God. Don't you know that? I've been wanting to kiss you but I didn't want to fuck things up with us."

"Too late for that," mumbled Michael, not sure if he believed Brian about wanting to kiss him.

"I know I fucked up. But I did want to kiss you. Hell, I nearly did at the movies when we saw Indy," Brian pointed out and Michael's brown eyes widened in remembrance about how hopeful he'd been that afternoon, that Brian was going to kiss him.

"But that wasn't the time or place for it. And then last Friday, well, we were so stoked about the strike I got and in the heat of the moment, holding you and jumping up and down, the hug you gave me, the joy on your face, I went for it. I don't regret kissing you," he added softly.

Looking away, Michael said, "I don't know if I believe that."

"It's the truth. I didn't freak out because of _you_, Mikey. I freaked out because of Pop. When I realized he saw us, I knew I had to get out of there."

"So you _were_ ashamed."

"You're so damn stubborn, Mikey. It's not that. You don't understand. Everybody doesn't have a parent who's understanding about their gay teenage son. If Pop were to find out, there'd be hell to pay."

"He doesn't know?"

"No and neither does my mother. Look, I'm glad your mom accepts you and everything, that's great. You're really fucking lucky. Most parents don't. Or at least mine wouldn't."

"You wouldn't know unless you told them," Michael pointed out but Brian just shook his shaggy locks.

"I know Jack and Joan Kinney. Joan would cry and get all hysterical and start praying, lighting candles and telling the priest she needs her son exorcised."

Michael rolled his eyes at the melodrama of it all. "Sure."

"Well maybe I'm slightly exaggerating, but it would be really bad. And Jack? He'd call me every name in the book and twenty more and then he'd beat me. And beat me, and beat me some more. And I'm sorry, Mikey but I've been beat enough by that man for sins I haven't even committed, I don't need to give him the ammunition to go crazy on me."

Silence. Michael's mouth hung open as he tried to absorb what Brian was sharing with him.

"Your dad?" he asked gently. "Your dad hits you?"

Brian nodded, his hazel eyes welling slightly. "Yeah."

"But…but why? You're a kid. And he's your dad." This did not compute with Michael. It went against everything he believed a father to be.

"Oh Mikey. You're so beautifully naive."

Narrowing his chocolate eyes, Michael commented, "You know, this is the second time you've said that about me and it's not a compliment."

"Yes, it is."

"No. It's you being condescending. Oh Mikey you're so naïve, you're so pure and innocent and stupid. Like I'm a fucking dog you pat on the head."

Frowning, Brian tried to get Michael to understand him. "I'm not trying to be like that, though I can understand why you'd think that. It does sound patronizing, but I don't mean it to be. When I say that about you, it's because it's refreshing for me. You have this view of people and the world that is, for the most part, not cynical or jaded. You look to the good in people and in situations. That's a good thing."

"Yeah well fat lot of good it does me when people take advantage of my "good" nature." Finishing his Kool-Aid, Michael stood up and walked to the sink where he rinsed out the glass and stuck it in the dish basin.

Brian took a chance and stepped near where Michael was standing. "Yeah, that's going to happen and it sucks. And I never wanted to be one of those people. I never wanted to hurt you, Mikey. And I did. I know I did. But please don't let me make you bitter."

Snorting, Michael said, "Pretty full of yourself there."

"Can we not do this?" Brian asked, resting his hand on the counter.

Beginning again, he said, "I wish I had half of your outlook on life. But I don't. And truthfully, I don't know if I ever did. You are right to think that dads shouldn't hit their kids. They shouldn't. They should be the stereotypical dad who's proud of their son and coaches his little league team or some shit like that. But the world isn't like that. Because if it was fair like that, my dad wouldn't hit me or hate me and your dad," he paused, looking over at his …Mikey… and then continued, "your dad would still be alive."

Releasing a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Michael spoke up. "Yeah. You're right. I wish I had a dad and I wish your dad didn't hate you. You're his son and that's all that should matter to him."

Looking down at his feet, Brian admitted, "I wish it were that simple, Mikey. I really do."

Neither said anything for a few minutes, they both just stood there, Michael trying to take in everything he'd learned this evening. Finally, Brian asked, "Do you understand now, Mikey? I know it doesn't excuse what I did, hurting you like that, but I freaked out when Pop called us "fucking fairies.""

"Yeah, Brian, I do. Understand. I mean, I get why you did it, even if it hurt. You were trying to protect yourself from getting hurt later, by your father."

Michael was having trouble grasping the fact that Brian's father was abusive to him. How could anyone want to mar that beautiful boy, especially his father? It was senseless. No matter how mad Michael could get at Brian or how hurt, he knew his friend was undeserving of such treatment. No wonder Brian preferred to spend all his time at the Novotny house, it must be a relief to be away from the madness that was at the Kinneys.

Brian nodded. "I'm sorry I left you there. You shouldn't have had to face Jack and his cronies alone."

Giving a slight shrug, Michael said he handled it by just getting up and walking out of there without saying a word to anyone.

"And your mom doesn't suspect anything?"

"Well, she was about to flip out when she saw me and I just told her that I fell. She wanted to take me to the doctor, get an x-ray."

Hazel eyes widened in shock. Brian hadn't suspected that Michael's injuries were that serious. "X-ray?"

"For my shoulder. I hurt it pretty bad. Got banged up elsewhere. But I'm okay," he assured Brian. "Really."

Taking a chance, Brian reached out his palm and cupped Michael's face, gently fingering the bruised cheek. "I'm so sorry, Mikey," he whispered, on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by everything that had happened and by revealing the truth about his father to Michael. He was the first one that Brian had ever confided in about Jack.

"Hey, it's okay. Anyway, I didn't need the doctor. Thank God Uncle Vic was here, he calmed her down."

Brian continued his ministrations and gave a small smile. "I met him, when I tried to visit you on Saturday. I really liked him."

This brought a genuine smile to Michael's face. "I'm glad. He's the best. I bet he liked you too."

Brian shrugged, feeling uncomfortable at how kind Michael was being to him. He wasn't used to people not holding grudges against him. And if anything, he deserved Mikey holding a grudge.

"I talked to him, about what happened," Michael confessed.

"Oh?" Brian tensed, fearing that Michael's uncle hated him.

"Yeah. He made me feel better. I wish you had an Uncle Vic."

"Maybe I can borrow him," Brian suggested then quickly added, "I mean, if uh, if we're still, if you don't…"

"Brian," Michael began, resting his hand atop his friend's. "We're still. I still. I don't hate you. You're my best friend."

Brian felt his chest tighten, but it was because it was so full of happiness and not sadness. "You're mine too, Mikey. I'm so sorry," he added once more.

"I know, I believe you," whispered Michael who wrapped his arms around his best friend.

Both teens noticed the sheen of unshed tears in the other's eyes when they faced each other. "Mikey? Do you believe me that I wanted to kiss you?"

Gulping, Michael asked if it really mattered and Brian said it did. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I wanted you to, so…"

"You did? Good." With that cleared up, Brian gazed intently at his best friend before taking Mikey's face in his hands and drawing his lips towards him, their lips meeting in a sweet, gentle kiss. The kind he wanted to give Michael several times over by now.

"Ohhh," Michael moaned softly in surprise and happiness. He kissed Brian back, gentle at first and then deeper, with a sense of urgency that surprised Brian. _Why Mikey you little devil_, he thought to himself, grinning.

A few moments later they pulled apart, breathing heavily, faces flushed. Michael gave Brian a bashful look and Brian smiled at him and then rested his forehead against Michael's. Both teens felt that everything would be okay with their friendship, it was once again solidified.

A week later, Michael was sitting in the living room, listening to U2's first album, _Boy_, on the record player when the doorbell rang. Not expecting anyone, he was a little surprised to find Brian standing on the porch, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

"Come in," he told Brian and he went back to sit on the floor, Indian-style, as he listened to the lyrics.

_There's a place I go when I am far away  
There's a T.V. show where I can grow  
Sometimes a hero takes me  
Sometimes I don't let go  
Hello, hello_

There's a picture book with color photographs  
There's a comic strip that makes me laugh  
Sometimes away he takes me  
Sometimes I don't let go

"Aww, Mikey's listening to U2 again. I think you're developing a fetish. You could do worse."

_Stories for boys, stories for boys  
Stories for boys, stories for boys  
Stories for boys_

"Whatcha doing here?"

"I have a present for you."

Raising a brow, Michael asked why, considering it wasn't his birthday. Brian said he knew, but it was for "just because." Reaching into his jean jacket, he pulled out a bottle of bourbon.

"Booze? You got me a bottle of booze?"

"Not just _any_ bottle, Mikey. Nineteen sixty-six. Good year. Four years before we were born. Pop says it was a great year. That's the year his precious Claire-Bear was born," he scowled, rolling his eyes as he thought of his older sister.

Brian sat on the floor next to his best friend and unscrewed the bottle with a bottle opener he stashed in his pocket. "Gee, you thought of everything," his friend remarked sarcastically.

"What's your deal, Novotny?"

"You're underage, Kinney. Ring any bells?"

Brian laughed and Michael prepared himself for another round of "you're so beautifully naïve, Mikey," but it didn't come.

"We're almost fifteen. Well, you first you old fogy, you."

"Shut up!"

"Well, it's old enough to drink. And it's not like we're going to drive."

"Duh," Michael told him with a snicker. "We're not old enough to drive."

"Exactly. So we won't be hurting anyone. And you think your mom and uncle never drank when they were our ages? Please. Besides, they were able to drink at 18. We have to wait til we're 21. Never mind that when we're 18 we could get drafted into the army to serve our country and we could die and yet we can't drink? Such fucking bullshit."

Michael laughed at how serious Brian was being. "You really like to go all out, don't you? I'm not mad. And I uh, I kinda always have been tempted to have some."

"You never have?"

Shrugging, Michael admitted that he only ever drank alcohol at weddings and on New Year's Eve. Brian said that was going to change, from here on out. He also said he would be there to make sure Mikey didn't get hammered. It was best to drink and do drugs with friends and not with strangers. Brian asked his friend to get them some glasses and Michael did as asked. Brian poured the liquid into each glass, giving Michael a smaller amount than was in his own glass.

"What should we toast to?" Michael asked as he peered at the liquid.

Brian raised his glass to Michael's. "To us. The Dynamic Duo."

Michael gave him a grin and they clinked their glasses before taking a sip, Brian warning Mikey to take it easy at first.

The amber liquid burned his throat at first, but Michael continued to drink and the boys sat on the floor, listening to records.

_There's a place I go and it's a part of me  
There's a radio and I will go  
Sometimes a hero takes me  
Sometimes I don't let go  
Hello, hello_

Stories for boys

"So Mikey, I wanted to know something," Brian started several drinks later, resting his feet on Michael's lap.

"What's that?" Michael asked, hiccupping.

"Does Ford do it for ya?"

Blinking rapidly, Michael had no clue what Brian was saying and when did he become so blurry? Michael waved a hand in front of Brian who grabbed it. "Whoa," Michael said, becoming nervous.

"What's wrong, Mikey?"

"I dunno. You just like multiplied or something. Are you sure there aren't some drugs mixed in with this?"

Brian gave a hearty laugh and assured his friend there weren't. "Aww, Mikey's getting drunk for the first time!" he gushed and then he tickled his best friend.

"Ack, stop it, Brian! Stop, don't I'm ticklish," he protested, laughing all the way.

"Muhahaha."

"What did you mean, does Ford do it for me? You mean former President Ford?" he asked, crinkling his face in disgust.

When Brian cracked up, the liquid he'd been drinking came out of his nose. How did that happen?

"No you dork. Ford as in Harrison Ford. Han Solo. Indiana Jones. Duh."

Rolling his eyes, Michael playfully jabbed Brian in the ribs. "I knew what you meant, you big dork. And he's okay."

"Okay? Mikey, come on, he's hot."

"He's not that bad, all right?" Michael poured himself more alcohol and gave the remainder (which by then wasn't much) to Brian.

"If you say so. I can't wait to hear who really does it for you," Brian said suggestively, wiggling his brows.

"Bri-an," sang Michael, laughing at his friend.

Suddenly, he stopped his laughter and grabbed his mouth. "Oh God," he groaned and ran into the bathroom.

"Mikey?" Brian called out. "Mikey what's wrong?" He stood up and swayed, nearly stumbling as he followed his friend into the bathroom. Michael quickly pulled up the toilet seat lid and began to throw up the booze.

"Oh God," he repeated, leaning against the porcelain.

"Poor Mikey," Brian said as he awkwardly patted his friend's back—awkward because his coordination wasn't the best and he at first patted Michael's butt.

A few minutes later, Michael was done and he flushed the toilet before he washed his hands and then drank some water to get the nasty throw-up taste out of his mouth. While he was doing this, it was Brian's turn to puke.

Michael returned the favor, rubbing his best friend's back, saying "poor Brian." After Brian was done and cleaned, the two walked back into the living room and both carefully sat down on the couch.

"One thing I forgot, Mikey," Brian said as he looked at his friend and he thought he was seeing double.

"What's that?" Michael whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Brian wondered. Debbie wasn't there, thank God for small (or rather big) favors.

"I don't know," Michael giggled.

"O-kay. Before I was inter-rupt. Interrupt? That's not right. Anyway, before, yeah I meant to tell you we shouldn't have had all that booze on an empty stomach. Always have something to eat before or during your drinking."

"Now you tell me," his friend grumbled.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me?" he asked, batting his long lashes at his friend.

Michael leaned back against Brian's chest. "I suppose so," he drawled.

Brian brushed back Michael's hair in a soothing manner. "Sorry. Still love me?"

"Of course. You're my best friend, Brian. I love you," he admitted happily. And he meant it. He did love Brian.

Brian smiled in Michael's hair. "What about you?" Mikey asked, curling around his friend's lanky frame.

"What about me?"

"Do you love me?"

For some reason, a phrase that Vic Grassi said a couple of weeks ago popped in Brian's head. "Yeah. Always have. Always will."

Michael smiled, hugging Brian to him. "I'm glad."

Minutes later the two of them were fast asleep and snoring when Debbie returned home from work. Her feet were aching and she was tired and wanted nothing more than to relax on the couch and watch some mindless entertainment.

"What in the hell?" she asked as she saw the bottle of bourbon on the floor and two glasses overturned.

Stepping closer into the living room, she gasped when she saw her son and his best friend lying together on the couch, snuggled tight.

Oh my God, he gave my son alcohol! She whined to herself. I don't fucking believe it. Michael Charles Novotny was going to be in major trouble. Thanks to that Kinney kid, once again!

"Michael Charles Novotny!" she yelled, startling both boys.

"Ma!" Michael cried out in surprise and then he looked at where he was and realized he was caught up in Brian's limbs. Shit.

"Hi Mrs. Novotny," Brian slurred his greeting.

"Drunk? You're drunk?"

"Shhh, Ma. He was sleeping. Let him sleep. Go back to bed…er, the couch, Bri." Disentangling himself from his friend, Michael stood up and spun, feeling very dizzy.

"Whoa."

Debbie's eyes were even bigger saucers than a minute ago. Her son was drunk too. Her baby boy! "Michael, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I just have to say," he said, shakily. "I have to say…I have to say. I'm going to be sick!" he declared and ran back to the bathroom to upchuck some more.

"Mikey?" Brian got up and followed his friend again and they repeated the same pattern as earlier, only this time Debbie was behind them.

"Ma? Can Brian stay the night?" Michael asked a little later.

"Well he can't exactly walk home in this state, now can he?" she huffed.

"Uhh…not really."

"Fine. He can stay the night. But come tomorrow you are grounded. And you're not my son, Brian but I have a say with what my son does and he does not skip school and he does not get drunk, you got it?"

"Yes M'am," Brian said seriously.

"Go up to your room—if you can both make it that is—and lie down on your bed but please, bring a trashcan or something if you need to puke. You're both going to wake up with nasty headaches."

"Thanks Ma," Michael said cheerily but when he went to give his mother a kiss on the cheek she recoiled. "You reek."

"Sorry." This time Michael was sheepish. The two boys slowly went up the stairs, stumbling every so often but holding onto the rail helped. They made it to Michael's bedroom and Brian found the trashcan and placed it at the foot of the bed. Michael got in bed first and then Brian crawled in, laying against his friend's chest. Michael wrapped his arms around Brian protectively.

"Sorry about getting you in trouble—again—with your Ma," Brian apologized.

Michael rubbed Brian's shoulder. "It's okay. Just another adventure for the Dynamic Duo."

"Or another episode of The Brian and Mikey Show," Brian told him with a smile before they promptly fell asleep in each other's arms.

**The End**

*****

_Credits—beginning dialogue belongs to the writers of Episode 111_

_Music--"Stories for Boys" by U2, lyrics by Bono_


End file.
